i feel like finding every poetic word i’ve ever heard today

and wrapping them around me in languid lustrous veil

and letting go and lying among their murmur and flail

filling my eyes, my ears, my lips, my very essence and array


once they were near, reaching them seemed perhaps even too easy

a lilt behind a long sentence, a lyric nudged between two thoughts

speak them in your mind and they took you to liminal lit spots

in the swell and ebb of things did my words get left behind or hazy?


gather them and surround me with their touch tonight once more

let the tide roll in and raise a tumult of waves lashing supine shore

leave nothing out, write a rhapsodic deluge of difficult but pure sound

swarming and swirling and lifting and ricocheting beyond and all around

there’s a death growing in me, its breath large and cavernous without end

come, utterances of the heart, of the poet, take hold and ascend


i am not a poet and i can’t claim to be a writer of great depth and merit, and yet once in a way a feeling comes powerfully cutting through the mundaneness of a day… it calls, it seems to want you to do something. there was this roil in me all of a sudden. i felt i needed to pay heed… to honour. i rarely write in rhyme, preferring to let my words just go and find their own rhythm, but today i wanted restriction, so the sonnet’s rhyme scheme is here though it’s not in a formal metre. and the visual: watch carefully, you’ll see a baby eagle up there among the clouds, my thoughts circled around like that. i could watch the flight for a long time, such grace and beauty and freedom.

it’s fascinating to write in a medium where the reader can connect with you and respond instantly. many writers haven’t had this opportunity. i’d really appreciate if you’d leave your thoughts here, and do check later i usually always reply. thanks.



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